


nescis quid serus vesper vehat

by Absolutely_Corrupted



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Lazarus Pits, Ninja Bullshit, The League of Assassins (DCU), Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 19:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19157620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absolutely_Corrupted/pseuds/Absolutely_Corrupted
Summary: Damian is not the only child born of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul. He is simply a perfected version of the first, flawed model.Ariana accepts this. She is a valuable asset and an important figure in her own right. The fact that her brother was literally designed to be better only justifies his position above her in the League's hierarchy. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

Ariana stood amidst the ruins of her latest home and heaved a tired sigh. It hadn’t been her home long, but she would miss its beauty regardless. Cool crisp air, untamed wilderness as far as the eye could see, the view of the sun rising and setting between snow-capped peaks… Yes, she could honestly say it had been nice while it lasted.

Turning on her heel, Ariana did not spare a second glance for the temple’s smoldering remains. She did, however, murmur a quiet farewell under her breath. Maybe someday, many years in the future, she would return to see it restored.

“Ariana!” Then again, maybe not. “Ariana!” Her mother would never approve.

Picking up her pace at the thinly veiled impatience in Talia’s tone, she made it to the pick-up point just in time to see the first helicopter starting up. “Finally,” Talia ushered her towards it. “You’re overseeing the transfer of your grandfather’s body to the location we discussed.”

“And after that?”

Talia handed her a small envelope. “You’ll meet Damian and I in the U.S. – the coordinates will be sent to your phone.” Knowing better than to ask about the envelope now, while they were pressed for time, Ariana simply nodded as she tucked it away into her vest.

She turned to go. Her mother’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Be careful,” Talia warned. “He’ll come after you too, if he’s able.”

“I know. I’ll stay under the radar.” She had no plans to die at the traitor’s hands.

“Good.” Her mother nodded once before spinning on her heel and quickly moving towards the second helicopter. Ariana climbed into her own, strapping herself in and pulling on a headset.

“Let’s go.”

The pilot, one of the temple’s surviving warrior monks, nodded briskly and took off.  Knowing that it would be many hours before they stopped to switch modes of transportation, Ariana settled back with her eyes closed. She had days of travel and dodging tails ahead of her – any rest would be better than nothing.

 

* * *

 

As per her grandfather’s wishes, Ariana oversaw the transportation of his body to a small base in Chad. It had taken fifty-six hours, a helicopter ride, three separate cars, and a private jet for her to be sure she’d gotten away clean, so she was exhausted and in desperate need of sleep when she happened upon a troubling snatch of conversation.

 _«_ _Il est vraiment mort?_

_-Oui, le traître l’a tué »._

Usually, Ariana allowed gossip to pass over her unheeded, but when the subject was both personal and restricted, she took exception. (Her current mood helped not at all).

“Either you’re fools, or you’re deliberately trying to provoke me – which is it?” She leveled the two league members with a glare she’d picked up from her mother. “You’ve been ordered to keep quiet about recent events.”

One of them blanched, but the other clearly didn’t recognize her. “Mind your own business, girl,” he told her in barely-accented Arabic. “Or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

His friend paled drastically at this. _«_ _Ta gueule! C’est la petite-fille »!_

Ariana waited for the severity of his mistake to sink in. It didn’t take long. He began blubbering – spewing apologies in a mixture of Arabic and French. She allowed this to continue for only a few seconds before her patience ran out.

“Stop.” He shut his mouth immediately. “Usually I would take you to one of the sparring rooms to teach you a lesson about judging others by their appearances…” A mixture of recognition and relief bloomed in the man’s eyes. It was something she’d come up with when she’d been Damian’s age and it had gone quite a ways towards cementing her position in the League’s hierarchy. She’d yet to kill or seriously maim anyone in the spars and it looked like the man knew that.

(At first, she’d done so as a display of skill. It took much more effort to defeat and humiliate an opponent than to kill one. As time wore on, however, she grew to enjoy the treatment her “merciful” reputation afforded her.)

 “Unfortunately,” at this word the man’s dark complexion developed a grey undertone as the blood fled his face. “I am too pressed for time to do that today.” She watched with no expression as the man closed his eyes and mouthed what looked like a prayer.

She felt marginally guilty then, knowing the man expected to be executed where he stood. She couldn’t blame him for his lack of faith. Neither her mother nor her grandfather were the forgiving type – not unless they still had plans for the person in question. Her nonfatal method of dealing with disrespect and disobedience went well outside the norm for her family. The fact that she’d outright stated she would not be using it left him thinking she’d be reverting to the tried and true method – a swift beheading.

“Instead,” she announced, eager to clear things up, “I will let you go with a warning.”

“A warning…?” The man’s friend caught him as he swayed, both of them looking equally shocked at this turn of events.

She nodded. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

That said, she swiftly moved around them and down the corridor, ignoring the hushed and furious whispers that erupted in her wake. With any luck, the fright she’d just given the men would stick with them for a while yet. Disobeying even seemingly unimportant orders was a recipe for disaster, and insulting superiors was almost always a death sentence. They were lucky it had been her and not Talia who had caught them.

Speaking of Talia, Ariana reached into the front of her vest to make sure the envelope she’d been given was still there. It was. _‘One more thing to do before I rest,’_ she thought mournfully. Knowing her mother, it wasn’t going to be something easily dealt with.

Prepared for the worst, Ariana stepped into the rooms she’d been given and locked the door behind her. Then, with a heavy heart, she made her way over to the desk in the corner. The rickety wooden chair hardly looked comfortable, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist sleep if she sat on the bed.

She settled in with a sigh and pulled out the envelope. Unsurprisingly, the details of a mission were enclosed inside. _‘Operation: Reunion…’_ Ariana started reading and then had to stop and start over when the implications hit her.

 _‘This can’t be right.’_ The plan had always been to introduce Ariana and Damian to their father, but to do so _now_ went against everything they’d been working towards. Damian was only nine years old – still just a child instead of the capable heir they were molding him into. Even Ariana, at fourteen, was not yet the bodyguard and second in command she was meant to be.

 _‘So why...?’_ The answer came to her before the question could fully form.

 

 _‘…Because he won’t_ ever _be the capable heir if the traitor kills him.’_

  


	2. Chapter 2

Gotham, as far as cities went, was not the worst case of human indecency Ariana had ever seen. It was, however, the most upfront about it.

She’d not yet been in the city three hours and she’d already come across two drug deals, a stabbing, and a dirty cop collecting a bribe. To say she was unsurprised to happen upon a man with an empty needle in his arm would be an understatement.

“You’re beautiful.” The vagrant in ragged clothes announced, not bothering to sit up from the stoop he was huddled against.

She rolled her eyes. “And you’re high.”

The young man stifled a giggle. “I am,” he agreed in a too loud whisper.

“Right,” she said, wondering why she’d bothered to stop in the first place. “I’ll just leave you to it then.” She made to step over the man’s outstretched legs and continue on her way, but a thought struck her before she could complete the motion.

“Say,” she looked down at the addict, taking in the details of his appearance. “How long have you been using heroine?”

He smiled dopily. “Since Christmas. A friend gave it to me when things got bad with my family.”

Ariana stifled her scoff. _Some friend._

Still, poor taste in friends aside, he seemed a decent prospect. He didn’t have the look of a long-term user. His arms were covered in track marks, sure – but he was a relatively healthy weight for a homeless person and he was very clearly still getting a ‘rush’ from a low dose. Someone who’d been addicted for years wouldn’t stop at the small amount this man had used. Hell, most of his gram was still in the Ziploc bag peeking out from the inside of his coat.

She knelt down beside him and offered up a sweet smile, one that was incongruous with the words that came next. “And what about now? What do you do when things get bad with your lovely new addiction?”

For a moment, it looked as though her words might spoil the man’s high, but the opioid won out. “I’ll just get more,” he said placidly. “Everything will work out in the end.”

Ariana raised an eyebrow behind her overlarge sunglasses. “I suppose anything is possible,” she remarked dryly. “Still, if you ever feel the need to escape this downward spiral…” She leaned forward and tucked a business card into his front coat pocket. “I’ll have a job and a treatment plan waiting.”

“Wha-?” The man glanced down with a furrowed brow.

Before he could examine the card or ask her questions, Ariana stood up. “Have a nice evening.” She was down the street and around the corner in no time at all. Wasting any more time chatting would make her late for her meeting with her mother.

As she hurried towards the docks, she allowed herself a moment to wonder if the man would take her up on her offer. Seeing as he was homeless and destitute in a city that was unkind to the unfortunate, she rather thought he would. That is, if he survived long enough to realize he needed help.

If he _did_ , Ariana was in luck. People with nothing to lose made the best recruits. If she gave him his life back – gave him a purpose – he’d be more willing to go above and beyond to please her. She’d seen it thousands of times with her mother’s people.

Of course, there was always the chance that he’d prove unreliable or indiscreet despite his best efforts. Yet it was a risk she had to take. If she were to stay in Gotham for any real length of time, she would need a network of loyal men and women to feed her information and run her errands. A network she need to build _quickly._ Her usual league connections were a no-go until her mother took down the traitor. Even the ones she _knew_ were loyal would draw unwanted attention to her presence. Her cover identity only worked so long as it couldn’t be traced back to the League.

If the traitor knew that _both_ of Talia’s children were in Gotham, Ariana would be a completely ineffectual bodyguard for her brother. It was exceedingly difficult to protect someone else when you were a target yourself.

She was pulled from her anxious thoughts when her phone buzzed twice in her breast pocket. It was a confirmation that the location was secure and the scheduled meeting would be taking place. Accordingly, Ariana left the alley she’d been lingering in and started a convoluted trek to her mother’s ship.

The setting sun provided long, creeping shadows that she used to her advantage. The dockworkers were completely oblivious to her presence as she darted from one patch of darkness to another before finally reaching her destination. Once there, it took barely more than a few seconds for her to spot the rope pulled taught over an open porthole; it was as clear an invitation as Talia could give her.

Ariana tossed her sunglasses and trench coat into her bag and then tucked the conspicuous item away between a couple of crates. A quick glance at her watch told her she had less than three minutes to get inside. Luckily, the sky had darkened quickly and her dark grey jumpsuit would make it difficult to for anyone to see her crawling across the rope.

She spared a quick glance to make sure none of the dockworkers were close, then leapt off the dock with her arms outstretched. She caught the rope easily, swinging both legs up and beginning her slight ascent immediately. When she was close enough to the porthole, she unhooked her legs and turned to face the ship. _‘1…2…3!’_ With the ease of long practice, Ariana swung through the open entrance feet first, landing in a crouch with nary a sound.

“Ah! Ariana, lovely of you to join us.” Talia waved her over from a plush sofa on the far side of the room. Damian was seated beside her. “You’ve got excellent timing as always.”

“Hello mother, brother.” Ariana rose from her crouch and walked over, doing her best to ignore the gigantic figure in black standing with his arms crossed. It took great effort, but she made it to her mother’s side and sat down before she allowed her gaze to drift to her supposed father. “This is him, then?” she asked curiously.

“Yes Ari,” her mother confirmed, gently carding her fingers through Ariana’s hair. “Meet Bruce Wayne – the Batman.”

“He’s not quite as tall in person, is he?” Damian’s voice was as confident and unapologetic as always. Clearly, even meeting his father couldn’t tame his tongue.

Ariana sighed heavily as she closed her eyes and leaned further into her mother. “Must you be so antagonistic, Damian?” Despite his physical skills, he was still emotionally immature. It really would have been better if they’d been able to wait until he was a little older for this confrontation.

Unconcerned with her criticism, Damian went on, “At least the uniform is suitably intimidating.”

She chanced a glance at their mother, only to find her smiling with obvious amusement. ‘ _No help from that corner then.’_ Deciding to let it go for the moment, Ariana shifted her focus to the reason they were gathered. “Have you explained the plan already?”

“Nearly,” said Talia. “I was just about to explain your role.” That said, the older woman redirected her attention to the vigilante across from them. “Bruce, this is Ariana – our first child together.”

“…You didn’t drug me sixteen years ago.” The deep voice held no surprise at the fact that Ariana was his, hinting that he’d suspected the truth from the moment she’d called Talia ‘mother.’

“She’s fourteen, not fifteen,” Talia corrected. “And no, I didn’t. Little Ari was something of a test run. She was conceived the old-fashioned way.” Both Ariana and Damian grimaced at that. “But that’s beside the point,” their mother announced. “I’m going to need your cooperation. Ariana’s presence in Gotham needs to stay completely off the radar. If the traitor finds out both my children are in the same place, even your reputation won’t be enough to stop him.”

The Batman tilted his head ever so slightly. “But it’s enough to stop him from going after the youngest?”

“Yes,” she placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Our son is the current heir, but he’s also a difficult target who offers relatively little reward. Even if the traitor managed to kill him, Ariana would only take his place. Add to that the manpower and resources needed to launch an operation in Gotham…” she trailed off. “He’s not stupid – he’d only risk it if he thought he could remove both rightful heirs.”

“I see.” The Batman was frowning heavily. “And how do you expect me to keep news of her presence from reaching him? I have other responsibilities to deal with. I won’t be able to watch for spies around the clock.”

“No need,” said Talia. “Her specialties lie in infiltration and subterfuge. No one will know about her so long as she doesn’t wish it.” Ariana felt her spine straighten with the rare praise. “She’s not here for her own protection,” her mother went on, “But for Damian’s.”

“What do you mean?” he asked warily. Ariana couldn’t be sure while the cowl was obstructing her view of his eyes, but she had the sneaking suspicion that his focus was now on her.

Talia waved a dismissive hand. “If I only wanted to protect her, I would send her to some remote country with instructions to lie low,” she admitted. “The reason I’m leaving her in your care is so that she can take care of the assassins that will be sent in hoping for a lucky shot. Just because he won’t risk a full-scale operation doesn’t mean he won’t try to take advantage of gaps in your security.” She gestured at Ariana. “She’ll take them out while you’re otherwise occupied. They won’t have any reason to expect her so her job will be relatively easy.”

“I won’t have a league member killing in my city.”

“I thought you might still be stubborn about that.” If Ariana’s mother were the sort of person to roll her eyes in exasperation, she would have done so then. “I’ve set aside tranquilizers and drugs which impair short-term memory so that even if the assassins live to return to their master – they won’t have anything to report aside from their apparent failure.”

This time, he shifted his head so Ariana _knew_ he was looking at her. “Do you agree to use only nonfatal methods?”

She nodded. “So long as it is possible without risking mine or my brother’s life.”

“…Alright.” The vigilante agreed. He turned back to Talia. “One last question,” he said. “Do I have any more secret children I should know about?”

She _laughed_.


End file.
